


Needs

by misreall



Series: Loki And Nora's Infinity Stone Playlist [22]
Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bondage, Chains, F/M, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, Loki is a mess, Love, Magic, Sex, Sub Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 03:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21154751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall
Summary: After the events of I Will Let You Drag Me Into Hel, Loki has been steadily falling apart.





	Needs

  
  


When Loki saw her coming towards him with the chain he knew he had let things go too far.

The mass of it filled her arms and seemed to slither about, writhing like a frenzied viper as if it anticipated what was to come. One end hung down over her left wrist, the heavy, enchanted hasp swinging back and forth, ominous and hypnotic. He found his eye helplessly tracking it even as he moved backward, raising his hands as a supplicant. Though he could read the implacability in her eyes he still felt the need to try. 

She would neither be placated nor avoided. 

There was a thrill of panic through him, a need to escape. To be bound the way he knew she planned to bind him - helpless, accumbent, exhibited to whatever might come - was dreadful to him. There were memories, some from Thanos, some from far deeper than this lifetime, that stirred in the muck of his mind when he was restrained thus.

His body prickled over with arousal at the thought of _ her  _ binding him thus, yet the dread was still his master.

“You know this is for the best,” she said, stopping when his back was to the wall beside the bed. His chest heaved, and he could feel the wildness in his own eyes, that they showed too much white like a horse in a lather. “You need it.”

All good avenues of escape were cut off, save going through Nora, which he could do easily. Which he would never do. 

As the chain clinked and swayed itself and put off a cold, intense magic, she reached out and pushed his hair back from where it fell into his face. It was lank and dirty. How long had it been since he has washed it? “I know you thought you could deal with it by yourself, that you were worried about overburdening me, but after everything that happened, it was too much for you. It’s ok that it’s too much for you. I’m the only one who will ever know, big man.”

He leaned his face into her hand, his eyes closing at the feel of her skin, feeling his breath start to slow and deepen so quickly did being near her soothe him. 

They had been free from Sakaar for weeks before it started. Loki had been so concerned about Nora. He had brought her home to Chicago to make certain she recovered from all that the anxiety and stress of searching for him. For a time his own …  _ reactions _ stayed in abeyance, allowing him to focus on her needs. 

Like the cleverest and most vicious of demons, they hid themselves until all was calm and well. Then they slithered out from hiding and bored new holes in his oft precarious sanity. By day he could cover and conceal, up to a point. But the nightmares would make themselves known to her eventually so he had simply used his magic to stop himself from sleeping.

For days.

Until the spell stopped and it was as if his ancient body had forgotten how to sleep. Certainly it had never been easy for him. Even as a child he would lay still in the dark and his thoughts would range far and wide. This was different. It may even have been killing him.

Loki had tried magicks and potions, but to no avail. The first spell was snarled within his mind like fishing line strung with a dozen hooks and would not be pulled free, killing him slowly whilst driving him mad. 

Well,  _ madder _ .

“You know what I want,” she said, softly but with no room for demure on his part. 

He nodded, his cheek rubbing against her palm like a cat, loving its warmth. “But, Trea-”

She shook her head, her eyes narrowing, “Now,” she said, moving her hand away from him.

With that gesture his attire - it occurred to him he did not even know what he was wearing - melted away like morning fog until he stood before her naked. She flicked her gaze towards the bed, her face solemn and giving no room for even his silvertongue to make her waver. She knew him too well. 

He laid himself on the bed, wrists together just over the top of his head, legs spread. Nora took one of his ankles in her hand and moved them a bit farther apart. Even distressed, his skin was alert, with a wonderful, deep ache and his cock, for the first time in days, started to show an interest in life.

When she turned towards him the chain clanked to mock him and he took a deep, shuddering breath as revulsion rippled over his flesh. Yet he found himself quickly growing harder. 

Nora sat beside him and gently put her hand flat on his stomach, circling, “Let me know when,” she said.

He let himself fall into the comfort of that touch. Of the care that came through it, of the power that only she had over him and that he could feel even over the screaming sound in his head. Over the now insistent throb of his most recalcitrant part.

Finally, still shaking a bit, he nodded.

She stood again, holding her arms out over his so the chain dangled and then, like a snake having flicked its tongue upon the air and tasting prey, it reared up and then slowly twined its way down and around his body. Queen Adalind’s magic worked its will over the base metal so it would ever do what it was created to do - bind Loki hand and foot, leaving him helpless.

Around his middle, up to his wrists, down to one ankle, then the next. 

On a mortal, it would be too heavy. On an Asgardian, it would be too cold. 

For Loki, it was perfect.

A perfect nightmare.

An intense pleasure, when issuing from Nora’s hands.

Even so, he struggled against the unbearable feeling of being helpless.

He shuddered harder, and then shook. 

Nora climbed over him, leaning down so her face was inches from his, “Look at me. Look at me. Look.”

Finally he focused on her and, as on those few other times when the desperation of his state had become bad enough that they needed to take these steps, something about the sight of her over him, covering him, mixing with the feeling of the chains holding him in this most vulnerable position, moved a place within his mind that there was no explanation for. 

He always knew how much Nora loved him, but when he was bound and they were alone in the quiet together he felt close to some deeper level of that love. A love that was before them and would be after. 

A final, dark shudder moved from his feet to his fingertips and he knew that with Nora he would never be alone and that his helplessness at this moment was a most profound privilege of love and even more of trust - to allow your lover to give you what you need no matter how hard a thing it was to admit.

“Better now?” she asked.

“Yes.”

He was so tired. 

The smile she gave him then was not loving, though her eyes were. It was calculating and knowing and very, very frightening. 

She was imitating him. 

“Good.” She sat up, perched on her heels so little of her weight rested on him. One finger touched his mouth and began to too softly trace over his lips. His eyes fluttered as he found himself unable to concentrate on anything but that touch. “Then I am going to make you hate me now. And then make you love me so much you won’t be able to stand it.”

With the last bit of defiance left in him, Loki sneered, “Do your worst, my delicate mortal.” 

Rather than respond, she moved off of him. The lack of her weight on him, grounding him, made him feel strangely as if he were about to fly off of the surface of all things. 

Or fall. 

With a laugh she reached under her skirt and shimmied down her panties so they hung on one finger, damp and fragrant and as hypnotic in their own way as the chain had been. Carefully she draped them over his eyes, his eyelashes catching slightly on the lace making another shudder work through him. 

He heard her turn the switch on the lamp beside the bed and between the silken garment and the low lights even he could see almost nothing. Yet he could so much more clearly hear Nora’s breaths being taken, feel the warmth from her as she sat beside him again.

With a sigh that he meant to be resigned but he rather feared sounded contented instead, he closed his eyes as well.

“BIg words, big god,” she answered, again touching his lips. Her middle finger stroked his lower lip and then the upper, over and over, with a patience that he could both admire and hate. The skin there was so thin, so susceptible, he found his mouth falling a bit open. 

She gave a soft laugh, “Let see if I can make you gasp as well.” Now she touched just a little at the flesh inside of his lips, almost as if her finger was lapping like a tongue. She moved inside, now stroking his tongue with her touch, but just barely. It was irritating. And yet….

Then she moved her now wet finger back to attending to his lips, slowly. Every bit of his scattered wits were concentrated now on his mouth. On her finger. On the excruciating sensation that was neither good nor bad but just unbearable. 

“You like that. I can tell by how your hips are shifting. And because of these.” Nora’s free hand pinched his left nipple abruptly and hard.

The shock of the pain threw him back into the rest of his body and he could feel the chains laying on him, the velvet of the bed rubbing his back, the silk of Nora’s panties sliding just a bit over his eyes, flooding his nose with her scent. The fog of enervation he had been in for days lifted entirely. 

He found himself helplessly squirming to try and get away when she pinched again, even as he arched his chest towards her. “You do like it, don’t you? You should tell me how much.”

“No,” he refused. “Do you really think I would break so easily, my wife?” He kept his voice calm even without magic. He had been tortured by the best.

“Of course not,” she answered. “I know you are as stubborn as they come.”

Loki snorted, “As the kids say, look who's talking.”

No longer pinching she slid both of her hands over his chest, down along the lean line of his belly, then back up, with a slow steadiness of intent that reminded him of himself when seeking to pleasure her. He felt her stand and she stroked up both of his arms and then down, covering his face with her hands, lavishing his neck with her attentions as well, stopping just long enough to squeeze. Though Nora lacked the strength to choke him properly the very idea of it made his breathing grow faster.

She reached his belt of Adonis and took extra time to run both her palms and fingertips over it before swirling two fingers around his navel and then petting the line of hair that led downwards from it. Petting and patting and never quite finishing. Never quite reaching his now painful cock.

“I know I’ve said this before,” as she continued downward at her leisurely place, her voice matter of fact even though he could _ smell  _ that she was all but dripping with her own needs, “but I never get tired of how beautiful you are. You know that I would love you even if you weren’t. I did, actually, Eddie,” she laughed. “But no, like this where I can just look at you. Touch you. See every bit of you splayed out for me, gorgeous and wanting and belonging to me.” 

Again, like he was some kind of cat, she petted his legs, murmuring at how she loved the silky hair on them, then ran her fingers over the tops and soles of his now painfully sensitive feet.

He made himself shrug, in as much as he could, feigning boredom. It was as if she had flayed the skin from him, with her touch and words. Loki loved to be looked at - admired, feared, lusted for - but he loathed to be seen. And now Nora examined him like some subject for testing or an anatomist’s cadaver. He hated it.

“I was wanting, but now I fear I’m growing bored,” he taunted.

Suddenly her mouth was beside his ear, her breath warm, her voice a hush, “I don’t know if you can feel it in there, but if you could see yourself. You are writhing like a virgin getting frigged for the first time, you’re flushed and every bit of you is up and begging. When I finally let you fall apart under me we are going to be picking up the pieces for  _ days _ .”

And then touched his penis. 

He must have made a sound he was unaware of.

It must have been  _ very  _ ungodlike. 

Hands in fists, his pelvis raised as far as he could manage in the restraints, he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from whimpering when she gave it no more than cursory attention, as well as to his balls, which she cupped briefly. “Shhhh…. We have ages before we get to that,” she said, brushing the lightest of kisses over his lips as he tried to raise his head to deepen it. Instead she stroked his hair like he was a little boy, “My poor love. You sound like you want to cry. I know it’s strange, but it makes me so happy that I can bring you to this point. You are leaking precum everywhere, your whole, perfect body is a trembling, flushed mess, your mouth is gasping and you on the verge of begging me.”

Fuck dignity.

Fuck dignity? Who was he, exactly, at this moment?

He had been tortured before, but never with such love.

“This is revenge, isn’t it? For all of the edging and love banter over our years?”

Nora snorted and for a minute he thought she was going to give that ridiculous laugh of hers and break the spell she was putting him under. “Love banter? Ahhhhh, no. Just consider all of that years and years,” her voice was husky and wonderful, “of lessons learned.”

His ears perked up and again his every sense fired. He could hear something…. 

“Are you touching yourself?” He nearly strangled on the words.

“What do you think?” Wet, delicious fingers again toyed with his mouth. This time when they entered him he sucked and sucked, feeling his eyes rolling back, cleaning every bit of the deliciousness from her. 

“You want to beg me … don’t you?” 

He shook his head, unable to speak because he knew that begging would fall from his lips to land at her feet like flowers.

Nora straddled him again, and this time he could feel her wet, hot cunt pressed against his belly, anointing and soaking him. With long grinds, she worked herself against him. There was an anxiousness to her motions and the little sounds she made that meant she was very close.

Now for the first time he truly struggled against the chains, shaking his head from side to side to try and toss away his naughty blindfold, wanting to see her, needing to touch, to bring her to her finish. All movement stopped and she sat on him perfectly still, “Stop that or I am going to stop. I will stop and untie you and we can try magical Ambien. Do you want that?”

There was disappointment in her voice, and concern. 

Words babbled out of him like a brook, the double-edge of his silvertongue ringing sincerity as he begged, “No, no. Come on me. Use me. Soak me. Please, please, please, Nora, please.”

She again cupped his cheek under her panties and he found himself turning his head and helplessly kissing her palm as he continued to spout words, of love and lust and fear and starvation for the feel of her and to reward him she slid until the head of his cock had just barely pierced her slick, searing cunt and then sat back and he was so deep in her they both groaned in shock. 

With a quick flip, she pulled his blindfold away and flicked it across the room so he could watch her use him. This was no slow, loving fuck. The set of her long jaw, the way she refused to touch him anywhere but the place where he disappeared into her, holding her own breasts, teasing her own nipples when they would clearly be happier with his tongue, riding hard, very hard for a woman of her years for those thigh muscles had been made in the service of their mutual hunger, not looking at him. 

His cock wanted to move even faster.

Until she put her finger between them and stroked her clit, making her tighten around him as he fought the chain.

Then she met his eyes, snarling, “Stay still or I leave.” She stopped moving, only the slight, involuntary sway of her body, and the desperate, throb and clench of her heat around his cock, and the way she had to bite lip let him know that she was close enough that it hurt to stop. That she was stopping for him. That she would leave for him. Deny herself for him.

His hands in painful fists, he forced himself to stop. It was agony. They stayed perfectly still, panting with locked eyes until she nodded and gave him a small, beautiful smile.

“My good, good love ... now stay my good boy and come when I tell you,” Nora whispered as she moved her hips and worked him. 

Oh, for her he would be so good.

She worked him until it took every bit of his will, a will over a thousand years in the making, to not move and match her. She worked him until his cock was the near entirety of his body, so hard it was surely bruising within her and he longed to bury his tongue in her cunt and kiss it better, except of course he was only a cock, her cock that she used for her pleasure, so that was not possible.

She worked him until he was barely there. Until the glorious wonder of not being in his snake pit of a head overwhelmed him and when the orgasm came, when she leaned over him, sweat-slick and worn and her own climax racking through her but still sane enough to remember him. To remember what he needed.

“Come for me,” she whispered. “Show me.”

The relief as much as the tormenting pleasure that started in his cock and then imploded made him scream. He screamed out  _ all _ of the torment, all of the fear, all of the fury at having been that madman’s toy. 

Then he let the pure pleasure and the sight of Nora finishing atop him again win out. With a lick of his seidr he shoo’d the chain away, wrapping himself about her, thanking her again and again. She kissed him wildly, his cheek, his chin, his temple, his lips, then more slowly, as they fell into a trance-like state and then asleep. 

The chain slithered back to the hidey-hole under the floorboards of the closet where it nested, coiled upon itself, its links rustling and chinking as it settled down, waiting until it's mistress and her mate needed it again.

  
  
  



End file.
